Jun 19

Dear Harvard - rap

i'll be adding a recording of me rapping this soon, i promise

Dear Harvard

Cat’s out the bag and we act like everything is cool?
Act like there hasn’t been in place some secret unwritten rule?
You hold us up like a token - the Hope Diamond of jewels
Token model minority, you put us up on the stool, but ...

When they said America’s the land of the free, I believed them - truly
Well dear Dean Fitzsimmons, where’s my long-earned equality?
To quote MLK “I have a dream” - here, can’t you see?
Now it’s been crushed by so-called claims of “diversity”

Don’t you try to hide it, don’t you try to disguise it
We do better on your tests, don’t you try to deny it
But you’re more likely to write us off as “standard strong” (1)
Guess you think we’re all the same - well guess who’s wrong

You think we’re all piano prodigies, busy tickling the ivories
Jun 11
poem 0 comments challenge: Three


Jun 11

3 things I learned junior year

So, I know I’ve been gone for a while. Basically, junior year was very busy. And by very busy, I mean that it felt that I had something important going on every week. I would wake up early on the weekends to either catch up on homework, practice violin, or study for standardized tests. I started the bad habit of staying up past midnight doing homework (so glad summer is here; now i can actually fix my sleep schedule) The year went by faster than I thought it would, especially these last two months. It felt like there were several sprints with few breaks in between. But anyway, I thought I’d share a few things that I’ve learned this year.

1)Everyone’s going to be obsessed with college.
Jun 05

Not Bilingual

Note: I wrote this for my AP Lang class.

    As I read the paper this assignment was on, I felt a rush of excitement. This would be the chance for me to tell my story. Snippets of half-formed ideas were playing through my head and I felt that the pieces of a fully coherent essay were beginning to slowly weave themselves into a tapestry that would give the viewer a glimpse into my life. I could write about how language creates greater difficulties for Chinese-American girls than Chinese-American boys. I could write about growing up with Chinese as my first language but now checking the “English is my first language” box on official forms. Needless to say, I left class feeling ready to tackle the assignment.
Mar 30

Good Music

There are some concerts where the music becomes the background; you can hear it but you’re not listening to it. The bassoonist is playing some insane solo but you’re only thinking about the project that’s due the next day or how you might have bombed the test that you took earlier in the day. While the bassoonist is passing the melody to the French horn player, you’re thinking about how to tackle the project - where to start, what topic to choose, how long it will take, how to split it up into smaller and more manageable tasks. And by the time you have everything for the project figured out, the entire piece is over and everyone is standing up to give a standing ovation.

This concert, however, was different.
Oct 21

Personal Narrative

note: I wrote this for my AP Lang class
If the Violin Sings

Standing in a sectioned-off room with a foreign bow in my right hand and an even stranger instrument under my chin, I looked hesitantly at my teacher. She nodded and I mentally prepared myself to begin the same process again of playing a slow three octave G major scale with one note per bow, listening carefully for tone. What instrument was this? The fourth or fifth? What bow was I on? I could no longer keep track.
Jul 19

untitled story part thirty-nine

Ella ran past the townspeople, dodging and weaving her way through the crowd. Someone yelled at her for almost knocking his pottery over, but she didn’t look back.

Leave, leave, leave. All she wanted was to leave. Leave this world behind, forget what had just occurred. She didn’t realize she had left the town until she heard the trickling sound of a stream. She stopped and took off her shoes and socks, feeling the pebbles and rocks beneath her. She kneeled down and dug several small rocks out from the ground and threw them as far as she could downstream. When all of them were gone, she dug more out and continued to throw them. If she threw with any more force, her arm might just have popped out from its socket. As she was about to throw the last rock, a hand closed around hers.


“Leave me alone.” She sat down on the edge of the stream, her feet in the water. Julius released his grip.
Jul 18

untitled story part thirty-eight

As they crossed the bridge, Ella noticed the people walking alongside them. Most seemed to be farmers or merchants, pushing their carts filled with goods. Others carried their goods by carrying a long stick over their shoulders, a large sack of goods hanging down from each side. Even though everyone around her was hurrying along, she felt at ease as she took in the sights and sounds. She smelled a variety of aromas ranging from a sweet, peach scent to a spicy, crispy scent of something being cooked.

The young boy had been right - the house that belonged to Pablo Moras stuck out from the rest the way a raven was different from a group of swans. His house was tall and skinny, with four floors while the rest were wide and two stories tall at the most. A stone sculpture of an oddly shaped animal sat in front of the door. With its round, flat nose, its curly mane, and its bulging eyes, Ella thought it vaguely resembled a lion.
Jul 17

untitled story part thirty-seven

A short one, but there's more to come!
As she approached the bridge, she noticed a dark water buffalo drinking from the stream. On top of the water buffalo sat a child who looked no more than seven or eight. At this point, she decided to approach him and try to figure out her location. As she got closer to the boy, she saw that he was almost completely bald except for a crop of hair in the middle of his head and that he had dozed off with a piece of grass sticking out of his mouth. The buffalo seemed to take no notice of her as she gently tapped the child on his shoulder. 
"Who is it?" the child murmured, his eyes still closed. "Go away mister, I'm just taking my buffalo out for a drink. Nothing wrong with that right? This stream is for everyone and once this buffalo is nice and healthy, I will work it in the fields."
"Please, I just need to ask one question. I won't bother you after that if you answer it."
Jul 14

untitled story part thirty-six

What were you cursed with?" Ella asked as she watched him start a fire. "What happened when you were inside Magda's house?"
Julius looked up as the fire began to cackle and grow. "I don't know much about the circumstances surrounding my curse I'm afraid. All I have been told is that on my first birthday, Magda barged in, demanding to see my father. Of course, I was the one she was searching for but she knew she would find me close by my father. When she saw me in my mother's arms, she snatched me from her and told everyone in the room that I would be destined to die before my eighteenth birthday. Although guards tried to attack her, she held them off with her magic, pushing them away and proceeded to cast the curse. When I entered her home, I threatened her with a dagger if she did not remove it - one that would slowly burn her from the inside out if she were stabbed over the course of several hours. She obliged and proceeded to remove the curse."